


Sympathy for the Devil

by Skull_Bearer



Category: Next Avengers, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Catholic Steve Rogers, Comfort, Cuddles, Devil wings, Hugs, Loki is a dick, M/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 21:50:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8177282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skull_Bearer/pseuds/Skull_Bearer
Summary: Tony grows a pair of bat wings. The world does not react well. Steve is determined to make Tony feel better.





	

**Author's Note:**

> From this Avengerkink prompt: 
> 
> Tony just one days sprouts bat like wings out of his back. The dark bat wings cause suspicion among his own team. Anyone else seeing those wings come to distrust him and start viewing him in a dark manner, some believing their a sign of the real Tony Stark. Tony meanwhile doesn't know if the wings are causing this feeling among the others or he's being stereotyped. He wants to get rid of the wings as quick as possible, but from the way he's being treated, he decides to hold onto them til he can figure out why people are viewing his bat wings in this way and why it's labeling him as demonic.

They are rather... intimidating.

Steve hovers uncertainly in the doorway, Tony's hunched over his workbench, back to him. His wings are half-furled, hanging from the long slits he's cut down his shirt.

They twitch, as Steve watches, long finger bones spreading and closing as Tony flicks his way through his holograms. The skin between them is black, the fingers slightly lighter.

Above the wings, behind them- it's still Tony, the same dark hair, the solid shoulders and muscled forearms, but-

Tony turns, and- it's almost funny. It would be if the sight didn't send a cold shiver through Steve.

When he'd been a child, the women who had the tenement beside theirs had been rather fond of handing out tracts. Her favourite one to give to Steve had an image of the devil on the front. Steve still has no idea what it had been about. He'd been too terrified by the goat-like, bat-winged monster on the front cover to ever touch the thing.

Bat wings.

Tony must have seen his expression. He turns back around, wings flaring. "Just go away, I can fix this."

"Sorry." Steve hesitates, then steps forwards firmly. "It's not so bad."

"Yeah, Loki could have turned the rest of me and then everyone'd be calling me batman and I hate that guy." Tony waves a hand. "So far it's either gonna be waiting this out, or major surgery."

Steve winces. "Please don't."

"I can't even fit in the suit." Tony at least turns back to him. "And have you seen the TMZ coverage of this?"

"I stay away from that garbage." Steve sits down on the edge of Tony's desk. From this angle, it's not so bad. The wings frame him, but it's still Tony. "It's okay."

He has to steel himself to reach out and rest a hand on Tony's shoulder. Tony flinches away, but it's half-hearted, Steve can feel the new knots of muscle and tethers of bone under his shirt.

He slides his fingers along the new branch of his wings, and- oh.

"They're really soft."

Tony's moth twists, as though he's about to say something sarcastic, but Steve continues his exploration of his wings, and he sighs, and relaxes against him.

They are so soft, like rabbitfur, longer on the fingers, and shorter, downlike on the fine skin between. This close, they aren't black at all, very dark brown. Rich dark shades of earth and Steve maps them out in palettes, picturing the oil tubes to paint them.

Tony's head hits his shoulder. "Is that good?" Steve says softly.

"Yeah." Steve reaches up and cups the back of Tony's head. His hair is glossy black, wild.

The Devil had black hair- although the pamphlet wasn't in colour so it was hard to tell. Steve bends down and presses a kiss into the dark curls. The wing shifts under his hands, and unfurls, stretching out and wrapping around Steve. 

It's like the fuzziest of soft blankets, the fine struts of the fingerbones curling around him. It's warm- the pulse of hot blood fanned body heat. Steve sighs happily, oh, he likes this.

Tony looks up, his eyes are soft and he looks sweet and tired. "Thanks."

Steve shakes his head. "I like them."

"I look like Satan." Tony groans. "They're going to make me shave."

"You're got the red scheme already." Steve kisses him. "I'll get you a pitchfork."

"I hate you." Tony mumbles against his lips, but kisses him again, warm and soft and tender.


End file.
